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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349721">Am I Fated for You?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bast_Sloan/pseuds/Bast_Sloan'>Bast_Sloan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Devil Wears Prada (2006), The Princess Diaries (Movies) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, F/F, Genderbending, Older Woman/Younger Woman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:34:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349721</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bast_Sloan/pseuds/Bast_Sloan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrei Renaldi  did not choose to become the Imperial King of Genovia, but upon the death of her father, there was no other solution. The throne had to be secured, the people protected.  Now as she approaches her twenty-sixth year, there is simply the matter of acquiring a wife...and a heir...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>339</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Greetings All, I know i shouldn't be starting another fic when I still have a WIP but this idea wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it.</p><p>I have taken some liberties with the Genovian world building, so it is no way a reflection of the original work or lore. In this fic, as you might have guessed, Andrei is Andrea/Amelia and i have taken liberties with Miranda's age as well.</p><p>Please note: Generally, chapters that are from Andrei's POV will use female pronouns for Andrei, His Majesty the King, while chapters from Miranda's POV will use male pronouns although, given other characters' varying perceptions of Andrei as a character, there may be some inconsistencies.</p><p>Disclaimer: All the characters and places you recognize are the property of Lauren Weisberger , 20th-century Fox, Disney and Meg Cabot. No money made or infringement intended.</p><p>Leave all the comments. I look forward to them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Genovia, 19<sup>th</sup> Century</p><p> </p><p>            There, nestled between France and Spain laid the vast and prosperous Kingdom of Genovia. A Kingdom that withstood siege and war, clawing its way from barbarity, it was now amoung the wealthiest in the world. The envy of the continent, not only for its beauty but also for its resources. Precious minerals native only to Genovian soil, black gold that sprung from almost every orifice. To say one was a subject of his Majesty were words uttered with pride and reverence.</p><p> </p><p>The House of Renaldi had ruled since the first Andrei Renaldi had waged wars and chartered lands in the year 927. Not once had the Royal line broke, not once had a usurper claimed victory. Each generation had welcomed a bouncing baby boy, a boy that would lead the nation to higher heights with fierce determination and boldness; such was the fire in their blood.</p><p> </p><p>That is, until some two and a half decades ago, the young King Phillippe had succumbed to a strange illness. He had suffered weeks before darkness had claimed him in agony. His wife, his queen and the soul’s other half had stood by his side, with sweet words she comforted him until the end. He died, leaving her swollen with child. The nation waited with bated breath one dark and stormy night when the impending arrival of their new King was announced.</p><p> </p><p>The elder Dowager Queen mopped at her daughter-in-law’s brow as she screamed. Mid wives scuttled about with hot water and towels, scrambling to aid the young queen in gifting them their King.</p><p> </p><p>“You must push my darling. Come now love.” Queen Clarisse had crooned to the younger woman.</p><p> </p><p>“Philippe!” Helena gasped and groaned, her fingers tightened around the sheets. “Phil-ahhh!!” She panted.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not-” Clarisse swallowed the bile that rose, the grief and anger that her son wasn’t here to comfort his wife. “I’m here dearest.” She brushed the sweat soaked hair from the woman’s eyes. “You need to be strong for our boy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can-can’t!”</p><p> </p><p>“Just one more dearest. Just one more push and you’ll meet your baby boy. I know he’ll have his papa’s eyes.”</p><p> </p><p>            Helena reached for Clarisse’s hand and with a mighty squeeze, she roared. The echoing sound of piercing scream ricochet in tandem with a powerful crack of thunder.</p><p> </p><p>            The chief hand maiden and dear friend to the Dowager Queen looked up with wild and frantic eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Everybody out!” She yelled at her subordinates as they tried peeking a look at their new Ruler. “Out!” They scrambled as though a whip had been cracked, leaving the room empty save for the Clarisse, Helena and the newborn.</p><p> </p><p>“Is he-” Helena slurred.</p><p> </p><p>“Ara what is the meaning of this?” Clarisse demanded.</p><p> </p><p>“Your Majesty it is, it is a girl.”</p><p> </p><p>            Clarisse’s hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. <em>‘No, no!’</em> Her thoughts screeched. <em>‘They needed a boy to claim the throne!’ </em>There was too much at stake, others would vie for the empty throne now that her only child, her only son was dead. The only thing that kept the wolves at bay was the fact that the Queen was with child and for the last few centuries, the royal line only produced male firstborns.</p><p> </p><p>“A girl?” Her mind spun. ‘<em>What were they to do?’</em> She looked at Ara with gratitude, if not for her quick thinking, word would have spread that the King was in fact a Princess. A princess who could not take the throne in her own right.</p><p> </p><p>“Your Majesty, we need to act fast.” Ara hissed.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me, let me see her.” Helena grew pale. “Please, my baby.”</p><p> </p><p>            Ara quickly moved to the woman, gently placing the squirming newborn into her mother’s arms.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh you precious thing you. Look Clarisse, she has Pip’s eyes.” Her voice was almost breathless.</p><p> </p><p>            Clarisse moved to peer down at her granddaughter. How easy it would have been had she been born a boy. She sighed in frustration until her eyes met the twin orbs of brown, looking up at her, nestled in colourful blankets.</p><p> </p><p>            Her heart stuttered, and she felt the tension melt from her bones. She does have her baby’s eyes. A gentle smile tugged at her lips as she watched the little thing yawn and she vowed in that moment, she would protect this little person.</p><p> </p><p>“Ara.” She turned quickly. “Has anyone seen her?”</p><p> </p><p>            The woman quickly shook her head.</p><p> </p><p>“Good. I need you to announce that Queen Helena gave birth to a healthy baby boy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wha-” Helena’s eyes dropped.</p><p> </p><p>“It is the only way to protect her and secure the thrown.” She looked down at the other woman. “If it is discovered that she’s not the future King then others will try to usurp our family. They will execute her because she and any child she bears would have a claim and be a threat.” She nodded to the mid wife. “See to it Ara.”</p><p> </p><p>“As you wish your Majesty.”</p><p> </p><p>“Helena you wi-Helena? Helena!” Clarisse ran to the bed and quickly caught the baby as she slipped from her mother’s loosening grasp. “Helena!” The younger woman slumped into the sheets, her eyes close, her face a sickly gray.  “Helena!” She tried rocking the screaming baby. “Ara! Someone help!!”</p><p> </p><p>            The dawn had barely broke through the stormy night, when Queen Helena joined her precious Pip, a gentle smile on her face as they walked to their next lives.</p><p> </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>His Imperial Majesty King Andrei Phillippe Malthenius Thermopolis Renaldi, Seventh of his name, Grand Duke of Pyrus, Earl of Sandringham, Royal Knight Companion of the Most Noble Order of the Montegro and Knight of the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Vernon. Sat rigid on his throne as his ministers droned on before him. It took everything within him not to fidget with the hairs at the nape of his neck as tension rang through him.</p><p> </p><p>            It was nearly ten summers since Andrei’s coronation and now at five and twenty she was the most desired bachelor in Europe, and that was the very conundrum she now faced.</p><p> </p><p>            Her ministers sought to hound her at every given opportunity to find a bride and sire the next generation of Renaldi. The thought brought such an unsettling discomfort that she almost got up and fled her throne room. If not for the arching brow and sharp eyes of her Grand-mere, she would have done just that.</p><p> </p><p>            Her crown nestled snugly on her head and the jewels on her military coat glistened under the natural lighting in the Imperial Palace. She cut ever the dashing figure, with her wide amber eyes, delicate jaw and high cheek bones, her thick naturally red lips and auburn hair, yes, she truly was the most desired ‘bachelor’…if not for her disposition of course.</p><p> </p><p>            It was said that the storm that herald the young King’s birth was just a warning of his arrival. Most times, she stood brooding, scowling, and other times her fury would shake foundations of her land. Some say that the storm had possessed her, changed her blood to lightning and thunder. Yet, it never took away from her grace, elegance and delicate handsomeness that caused many a hearts to swoon and many a knees to buckle.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you dallying and get to the point Minster? I have much to do before morrow.” She snapped. She could feel his Grand-mere’s eyes on her, narrowing in reproach but she refused to relent.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, um, yes Your Majesty.” He bowed lowly. “It’s only that-” He coughed with nerves as the King’s eyes narrowed at him. “You’re approaching twenty and six.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am aware of the date of my birth Minister.”</p><p> </p><p>‘Well, well the law states that, that you need to marry soon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not this drivel again.”</p><p> </p><p>“There are many, <em>many</em> eligible women in Genovia who would gladly, <em>gladly</em> take the role as your Queen.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure there are.” She muttered. Her mind reeled. How could she possibly take a wife without revealing her secret? After years, they people would realize that she was unable to sire any children. Questions would be raised, rumours would fly.</p><p> </p><p>            Andrei groaned, she seriously had little time for this madness, there were treaties to discuss, different areas of the economy that needed her attention. She hadn’t the time for a…a <em>wife.</em></p><p> </p><p>“Gentlemen, please. The King has already agreed for the Royal court to begin searching the lands for a suitable candidate…”</p><p> </p><p>            Andrei’s eyes snapped as her Grand-mere spoke. <em>‘I did what!’</em></p><p> </p><p>“…So let us move on to the other matters at hand.”</p><p> </p><p>            Her Grand-mere quickly winked at her, moving so fast that had she not been staring so intently at the other woman she would have missed it. At the subtle action, she felt the tension begin to ease. <em>‘Oh, she had a plan. Good.’</em></p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>            Lady Miranda Elizabeth Priestly, wife of the late Lord Stephen Priestly Earl of Tomlinson stared in disinterest as they lowered her husband’s casket into the ground. Her premature snow white hair was perfectly coiffed as her mesmerizingly blue eyes stormed in indignation. At barely six and thirty, she shouldn’t have to be suffering through such foolishness.</p><p> </p><p>“Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.” The Preacher shouted.</p><p> </p><p><em>‘If only the cad had return to dust sooner she wouldn’t have found herself in the middle of this mess.’ </em>She scoffed to herself.</p><p> </p><p>            The idiot she had married some fifteen years ago hand squandered their wealth with his ‘investments’ which was code for gambling and whoring, and now she hand a slew of debt collectors banging at her door demanding payment after the arse decided to die in the bed of one of his whores, the wife of another Earl. She actually felt sorry for the poor woman, her reputation destroyed, and her husband had sent her to the country, whatever that meant.</p><p> </p><p>            The dreary English day clouded with grays, much like her emotions. <em>‘How was she to pay off his debts?’ </em>With what little she had stored away would only manage to cover part, the other part is what brought her to such worry and downright fury.</p><p> </p><p>            The idiot had travelled on business to Genovia on business some months ago. A nation whose borders were rigid and the inner working of the territory so secretive that non-natives who travelled were considered to be almost celebrities. The business, as he had so eloquently put it had involved swindling the Royal Treasurer out of quite the pretty penny and now the insipid man sought to quickly collect before his King found out what he had done.</p><p> </p><p>            So now here she stood, over her husband’s grave and the only thing that coursed through her was raw, unaltered anger. She would’ve killed him if the coward hadn’t died first. She pursed her lips when she saw the fat little man skulking at the outskirts of the cemetery. She saw it in his eyes when he threatened her with the might of the Genovian crown, he was nervous. He was scared. He had embezzled from the King and now he could feel the walls closing in. She would now cow to him, her eyes narrowed.</p><p> </p><p>She was finally free from the restraints of society. As a widow, she could’ve done essentially whatever she pleased. Go wherever she wished. Her lips pursed further. If only the idiot hadn’t gone a ruin her future. A bane to her existence even in death. The money she had saved with a desire to start a new life would dwindle to nothing. She would be lucky to keep the Manor, how she would feed and support herself? Well that was another matter altogether.</p><p> </p><p>            She arched her neck and tilted her head imperiously. She would find a way. She would survive. Her eyes blazed as she straightened her back. That was all.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really have appreciated the feedback and comments from you all, it makes writing this even more fun, so please definitely keep them coming. Here’s another chapter, stay safe and I hope you enjoy. – B.S.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Miranda's back stiffened, her lips pursed and her neck arched as she watched shabbily dressed men empty the furniture from her home. Almost every piece was gone, from her impulse buys to heirlooms and one of a kind pieces. They were handled like cheap worthless trinkets, off to the auction to be sold in hope that it would cover majority of Stephen’s debts.</p><p> </p><p>            Everything was gone and soon, the very roof over her head would follow. She made not a sound, uttered not a peep. She wouldn’t give the gossipmongers any ammunition to giggle and titter about the peerage, whispering her name in mock pity and barely concealed amusement. This was the level Stephen had debased her to, and oh how she hated the vile man for it.</p><p> </p><p>            For the last few years, when she had realized that it was futile to ask her husband to give up his whoremongering, she had dedicated herself to a project. She had always loved beautiful things, and as her innocent naivety gave way to bitter resentment, she had grown fixated on the concept of fashion, lest she lose herself completely to the wretched emotions. So she had made little designs, designs which she would then have made and tailored to perfection. Then she would travel and collect fabulous pieces across the continent. Pieces that were new and daring, and after a while, she had created a reputation for herself.</p><p> </p><p>            Aristocrats, debutants and even commoners alike had flocked to follow her style, to copy her trends. If she wore it, then it was as good as gold. Soon, House Priestly was steadily making its name, despite Stephen, and in a few years, it would have been the greatest fashion house on the continent, she would have been the premiere trendsetter.</p><p> </p><p>            Until that vile man.</p><p> </p><p>            He went behind her back and mortgaged her growing business. Every machine, every door, every bit of savings she had acquired  and used it to invest in some hare-brained scheme, and of course, he lost every. After informing her few employees, there were no more than ten, that they no longer had jobs, she had handed over the keys to the bank. No one would give her loan, Stephen’s dishonesty and reputation clung to her like a gut curdling odour.</p><p> </p><p>            All had left, except two. One Nigel Kipling, an American who had crossed the pond when word reached the States of her. He was a talented designer with an affinity for seam work and tailoring and Emily Charlton. A young Cockney flower girl from Lisson Grove who Miranda had found dripping wet and near starvation two years ago. Miranda had eyed her dubiously before inviting her into her little shop, giving her food and a place to sleep and after three weeks when she was able to stand without keeling over, Miranda had offered her a job as her assistant.</p><p> </p><p>            There was the matter of teaching her to read and write first, but Miranda was always up for a challenge and after a while, the girl had lost the unfortunate twang of her upbringing and now spoke with the pomp and snip of the peerage.</p><p> </p><p>            The two were loyal to a fault, and refused to abandon the white haired woman during her rough patch. They were sure she would soon be back on her feet. She was Miranda Priestly after all.</p><p> </p><p>“You!” A voice called out from the foyer. The word was spoken with such vitriol that Nigel rose to his feet to stand by Miranda who had yet to move. “You good for nothing bitch. Where is my money?!” A short, overweight, balding man screeched as he barreled pass the movers and into the Halls.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Irving, back so soon?” Her voice cold and flat but her eyes burned with a fury. “I assure, since last we spoke, I believe it was yesterday? I still do not have it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t care how you get it!” His accented voice grew heavy. “If you have to spread your legs and lie on your back. That is all a woman is good for anyways.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why you little-” Nigel’s fists tightened as he stepped forward. Miranda touched his shoulder to still his movements.</p><p> </p><p>“Listen you sniveling bastard.” The tone of her voice hadn’t changed. “Do you think I care in the slightest that you stole the money and need to return it?” At his widened eyes and slackened jaw, she knew she had hit the nail on the head. “Of course I know. I can tell pathetic worm from a mile away. A man that never had to work for a thing in his life. One who uses those around them to elevate themselves, to take what belongs to others because they know that on their own they are useless…” She took a step forward. “…worthless, sorry excuses for a human who has nothing to contribute other than the air they breathe out. So no, I do not have your money. No, I don’t know when I will have it and until the bank come to repossess the roof over my head, this is still <em>my home</em>. Now get out, before I have you thrown out.” She hissed.</p><p> </p><p>            Maybe it was the wildness of her eyes or the way her voice lowered until it felt as though the temperature in the room had plummeted, but Irving spun on his heels, sputtering as he ran as fast as his little legs could take him.</p><p> </p><p>“Rightio Miranda, that’s what that rat deserved.” Emily sniffed.</p><p> </p><p>“I-” Miranda felt the adrenaline drain form her as black dots swam across her vision. She was barely able to reach out for Nigel before everything faded to black.</p><p> </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>            Miranda sighed for the thousandth time from where she laid in bed huddled under hundreds of blankets. Emily and Nigel had called her family doctor. A sweet elderly man who knew her when she was nothing but a spry teenager. She saw the three huddled together, muttering amoung themselves through the small space where the door had drifted open.</p><p> </p><p>            They thought she was still asleep.</p><p> </p><p>            She sat up and felt a wave of dizziness wrack her body. Stilling her movements, she waited until the feeling passed before dragging herself from bed.</p><p> </p><p>“What is-?” She dry heaved but quickly covered her mouth in mortification. The three rushed over to her, well Nigel and Emily did, the good doctor could only move so fast. Her cheeks burned. After taking a few deep breath at the behest of her physician, she tried again. “What is wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh nothing is wrong.” The older man grinned as he clapped gleefully.</p><p> </p><p>“Then why do I-” She covered her mouth once more, forcing down the rising bile with sheer stubbornness. “Why do I feel like death?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, the morning sickness will eventually fade. But you need to rest; stress is not good for the child.”</p><p> </p><p>            Miranda stilled. Every bone in her body locked and froze. “Child?” She whispered.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d say you’re about three weeks along.”</p><p> </p><p>“Child?” The disbelief in her voice was lost on the doctor as he prattled on. ‘Child?!” The hysteria had begun.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. A child.” He frowned at her. “Haven’t you been following?”</p><p> </p><p>“What child?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Your child?!”</p><p> </p><p>“My child?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!”</p><p> </p><p>“Where did it come from?!”</p><p> </p><p>            The doctor sputtered before reddening. “My Lady surely <em>you know</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t have a child!”</p><p> </p><p>“I assure you, you can.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Positive.”</p><p> </p><p>            Emily watched the back and forth between the two even as Miranda seemed to descend into disbelief and madness. The doctor eyed his patient with exasperation. Miranda’s hand subconsciously reached for her stomach, clutching fiercely and protectively over the babe quickening in her womb as one thought filtered through her mind.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘Stephen that rat bastard!’</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>            Andrei felt the sweat running down her back as the gentle breeze wisped around her. The lavish and well-manicured lawn that sprawled for almost a mile laid at her feet, water sprung and spurted from the fountains in synchronized beats.</p><p> </p><p>            Foot guards, numbering in the hundreds patrolled the entrance and surrounding vicinity of ‘<em>Brokheim</em>’, the Summer Palace, while others marched with their equine partners in perfect formation. The Palace walls gleamed as the rays of the sun bounced off the stark white limestone, marbles and gold trimmings.</p><p> </p><p>            At the northern entrance were two men, the King himself and the Captain of his Guard, his right hand man, His Lordship Cristobal Benavente, engaged in a beautiful dance of fencing. They moved with effortless grace and ease as they maneuvered their foils with skill and precision. The two were clad in fitted breeches, Andrei in a deep maroon and her partner in a navy blue. Leather riding boots grazed mid shin gleaming in the morning light. Their shirts a dazzling pristine white hung over their frame almost two sizes bigger. Wisps of hair fanned their faces as the strands escaped from the silk ties they’d haphazardly used to make messy buns.</p><p> </p><p>The two had an air of roguish charm that had already caused many to stand and watch their display in a mixture of lust and desire. Andrei’s fingers tightened around her foil waiting for fencing partner to parry. She grinned at his lack of success when the tip of her blade nicked his shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“This is the third shirt you’ve ruined since week your Majesty. I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose now.” His hazel eyes crinkled in amusement.</p><p> </p><p>            Andrei arched a brow. “So you’re blaming me for your lack of skill? How is it my fault that your defenses are so easily outmaneuvered?” She spun on her heels, swiping her foil at his feet. Cristobal barely suppressed an embarrassing shriek as he jumped, almost landing on his backside if not for his quick reflexes. “The fact that you’re the Captain of my Personal Guard and soon to be General of my armed forces, this display right here,” She pointed to where Cristobal stumbled. “…is proving to be very, <em>very</em>, embarrassing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Go on, laugh it up <em>Your Majesty. </em>I’ll have you know that can land you on your arse at any time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh? Threatening your King now?” She tutted. “I’ll send for my Captain and have your thrown in the dungeons.”</p><p> </p><p>“Strong words for someone who needs me to fend off his prospective wives.”</p><p> </p><p>            Andrei groaned at this. “Did you have to mention that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Considering Lady Ara is heading straight for you? Definitely.”</p><p> </p><p>            At this, Andrei felt herself stiffen, the Lady Ara Sangrinam had fancied herself the future Queen of Genovia since they were eight years old, and nothing Andrei did to deter or dissuade those thoughts worked. Not. A. Damn. Thing.</p><p> </p><p>            She could already felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise and her stomach roll. Her eyes narrowed at Cristobal’s cheeky grin. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Her words were low and accusing.</p><p> </p><p>“Immensely.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yoo hoo!”</p><p> </p><p>“Dear God take me please.” Andrei looked up to the heavens and begged for a small reprieve.</p><p> </p><p>“I think I should get going.” Cristobal fought that bubbled up.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you dare!” She hissed lowly.</p><p> </p><p>“See you.” He started moving, but Andrei was quicker. Within seconds, she was next to him, gripping his arm in deadly tight hold. He winced as her fingers dug into his flesh.</p><p> </p><p>“If you leave I’ll-I’ll-” Her eyes grew frantic as Cristobal watched her with a smug smirk. “I’ll have you beheaded at dawn.” She rushed out. “Then-then, thrown in the dungeons.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just to be clear, you’re beheading me first? Then throwing my body…in the dungeons?”</p><p> </p><p>            The King nodded frantically.</p><p> </p><p>“Eh, Grand-mere loves me, so I’ll take my chances.” He took another step. Andrei’s fingers tightened further.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll give you back Rocinante!”</p><p> </p><p>            Cristobal froze at the name of one of his prized Stallions that he’d lost in a bet with Andrei some three years prior. He whined and begged to get him back but Andrei refused to give him a second look. He eyed the King in suspicion. “Truly?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” She squeaked before clearing her throat and responded with a more appropriate, “Your King has given his word.”</p><p> </p><p>            An easy grin stretched across Cristobal’s face. “I wasn’t going to actually leave you to that Harpy, but I’ll take it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why you little-”</p><p> </p><p>“Lady Ara!” Cristobal yelled over Andrei shoulder before slipping out of her grasp and quickly pulling the other Aristocrat to him, the single earing that dangled from his left air, made him seem almost devilishly charming. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before twirling her around. “I was just telling the King how I wanted to show you the new paintings I’ve imported from Venice.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh that’s nice but I wanted to tal-”</p><p> </p><p>“Come, you must see them now, their absolutely divine.” As he pulled the woman away, he looked over his shoulder and shot the relieved King a cheeky wink before turning to the protesting woman.</p><p> </p><p>“That was close.”</p><p> </p><p>            She spun on her heels, her eyes meeting the mildly amused stare of Her Ladyship Serena Van Visser. Another sigh puffed from her lips. “You know I hate when you sneak up on me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sneak?” She pronounced the word with disdain. “I don’t <em>sneak</em>, you’re just unobservant.”</p><p> </p><p>            Andrei had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Her Grand-mere would chastise her and say that it was not becoming of the King. Choosing to ignore the dig, he raised his foil and one of his attendant came rushing over to take it, another one fast behind with porcelain basin and pitcher of fresh water. “I wasn’t expecting you back so early.”</p><p> </p><p>            Serena hummed as she watched her King wash his hands and face; another attendant appeared with plush towels to dry the Imperial sweat. “Neither was I, but it hadn’t taken much digging. Irving is quiet the careless idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>            At the man’s name, Andrei’s lips pursed in annoyance. “I should never have let the council talk me into appointing his to the Treasury.”</p><p> </p><p>            Again, Serena hummed.</p><p> </p><p>“What have you found?”</p><p> </p><p>“The idiot allowed a foreigner to swindle him out of…a <em>substantial</em> sum. A sum that according to him, ‘<em>Our benevolent King would hardly miss</em>.’ True as that might be, I think the idiot forgot that I sometimes go through country’s books.”</p><p> </p><p>“How much?”</p><p> </p><p>“One hundred thousand pounds.” She replied flatly.</p><p> </p><p>            Andrei’s eyes widened. Not at the sum, for in the King’s purse and the country’s wealth, it was a mere drop in the bucket. Nevertheless, it was truly a substantial sum, and the fact that Irving had embezzled such an amount unnoticed meant that something outward was taking place in his Council.</p><p> </p><p>“Can we get it back?” She gritted.</p><p> </p><p>“Not a cent.”</p><p> </p><p>            Her eyes snapped to the blonde, but she stared back at her unflinchingly.</p><p> </p><p>“He ‘invested’ it with Lord Stephen Priestly from England, and if it’s possible, the man is, well <em>was</em> more of a moron that Irving. God help us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Was?”</p><p> </p><p>“Dead, in the bed of his mistress and the wife of another Aristocrat not less.”</p><p> </p><p>            Andrei’s eyes widened at the thought of the scandal.</p><p> </p><p>“As I sad. Moron.”</p><p> </p><p>“His estate?”</p><p> </p><p>“Worthless.”</p><p> </p><p>“How is that even possible?”</p><p> </p><p>            She shrugged. “Positive I told you he was a moron. He left his wife penniless and after debt collectors come calling, homeless too.”</p><p> </p><p>            The King whistled. Her heart clenched in pity for the unknown woman who fell from a life of luxury to poverty because of the whims and folly of someone else.</p><p> </p><p>“Irving has been hounding the poor woman none stop.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s scared.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s scared.”</p><p> </p><p>“Rightly so. Send for him, as the new Minister of Finance and Chancellor of the Royal Purse and Treasury, fire him and have him arrested.”</p><p> </p><p>            At this Serena’s brows rose. “Aren’t you even going to ask me if I accept the job?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope.” He said over his shoulder as he walked away. “And for god’s sake, inform the woman the Kingdom has forgiven her debt, we’ll take it from Irving’s arse.”</p><p> </p><p>“She could be of use you know.” Her words carried over the distance and stilled the King’s movements; she turned to her, with furrowed brows, Andrei’s confusion evident.</p><p> </p><p>            She crossed to her before tucking her hand in the crook of her arm. She waved the away the attendants that followed them, who only stopped after the King nodded in agreement.</p><p> </p><p>“She is a desperate widow.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know this.”</p><p> </p><p>“…who owes the crown of a very powerful foreign nation a pretty penny.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why-?”</p><p> </p><p>“What wouldn’t she do if we forgave her debts and agreed to pay off her other debt collectors?”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t seriously mean-”</p><p> </p><p>“Make her your Queen.”</p><p> </p><p>            Andrei quickly turned to her. “What? <em>What</em>?” She hissed.</p><p> </p><p>“Hear me out. You are…unable to…jeopardize the crown by taking just any and anyone. You could dictate the terms of the marriage with ease and without question. She’d be so glad that she just about agree to anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t I just marry you!”</p><p> </p><p>            Serena snorted at that. “As pretty as you are my King, you’re not my type.” She patted the other woman’s cheek.</p><p> </p><p>            Andrei scoffed in slight offence.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh come now, you know I like my woman delicate and demure. Two things you are not.”</p><p> </p><p>            The King grumbled under her breath, though the insult ruffled her feathers, she was eternally grateful to have people like Serena and Cristobal in her corner, people who knew her so well, even her most intimate and well hidden secret and stood by her through it all, fighting for the good of the country, protecting their found bond.</p><p> </p><p>“It doesn’t matter anyways. Even if I do marry her, there is still the impossible matter of an heir.”</p><p> </p><p>            At that, Serena’s grin turned almost predatory. “Have I ever steered you wrong dear friend?”</p><p> </p><p>“What-?”</p><p> </p><p>“The Lady is expecting.”</p><p> </p><p>“Expecting what?”</p><p> </p><p>            Serena released a long suffering sigh. “I swear sometimes I wonder about you. A child Andrei, she is pregnant. I slipped a few coins to one of her chambermaid. Apparently, she’s only a few weeks along and only just found out. So if we were to propose a deal, for the sake of her child, what mother wouldn’t take it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Serena, as much as I love your devious mind. The answer is no.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. I’ll take advantage of a pregnant woman mad with grief, who do you take me for?”</p><p> </p><p>“A King who needs an Heir and a ruler who is being plotted against. We need to secure this Andrei, we both know it.”</p><p> </p><p>“We will, some other way. I’ll not condemn someone to a life of suffering without love and one filled with lies and subterfuge.”</p><p> </p><p>            Serena snorted again as she looked at the Summer Palace. “Suffering indeed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh come off it. You know what I mean.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>“I honestly believe this would be a blessing for her. Who wouldn’t want their child to be a King…or a Queen?”</p><p> </p><p>Clarisse and Andrei had worked diligently to have the laws changed allowing a first born daughter to claim the thrown, and even though it had taken years, subterfuge and political skill to accomplish, Andrei would never experience the fruits of her labour. To reveal her secret now would rip the Kingdom apart, those who sought to usurp would use it as an excuse, there was a possibility the people would revolt because of the deception. There were too many unknown variables. No, she would live out her days as King and be done with it.</p><p> </p><p>“You would offer her security, and if you feel so strongly about it, you could allow her to take lovers after the child is born, discreetly of course.”</p><p> </p><p>            Andrei tilted her head pensively. It could work. If the woman agreed freely, she would give her wealth, freedom and power; she would only have to share her child.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a solid plan.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll have to think on it.” Her voice grew tired and weary.</p><p> </p><p>“You mustn’t dwell on it too long. We’d need to act fast before she begins showing. We can’t have any doubt or rumours about the child’s parentage.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll let you know by the morning.” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. She hated being forced into things, and that is exactly what the Council was try to do.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course my King.” She patted the arm of one of her closest friends as they continued across the lawn.</p><p> </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>            Unbeknownst to the two, somewhere across the Kingdom a meeting of brethren plotted and schemed.</p><p> </p><p>“Why not use the same method we used to dispose of his father.” One man whined.</p><p> </p><p>“Because the Dowager Queen will not be fooled twice you idiot.” Another snapped.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t we just get rid of her too?” Again, he whined.</p><p> </p><p>            She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as if begging for patience. “Because we need someone of royal blood to bless the coronation of a person who is not a direct descendant or it won’t be valid. The Dowager is old and would need to choose a successor, after that, and then we can get rid of her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! Wait, that’s me right?”</p><p> </p><p>            This time the woman threw her head back and looked to the heavens, begging for divine intervention to keep her from killing him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really have appreciated the feedback and comments from you all, it makes writing this even more fun, so please definitely keep them coming. – B.S.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so now that I'm done with 'Can't We Just Fall,' I'm going to try finishing this story quickly, seeing as though it has been hiatus for so long. I don't think it'll be as big as CWJF, but we'll see where the characters and the plot leads me. </p>
<p>I can't promise religious updates because life is so busy right now, but I will attempt to make the time and do something weekly. So please, bear with me.</p>
<p>Just a note re this story. When in the company of others and strangers, I will refer to Andy as "He/Him.'  When around family, friends who know and third person omniscient, I'll refer to Andy as 'Her/She.' </p>
<p>So please bear this mind so it's not confusing for you.</p>
<p> Don't forget to comment, I look forward to your feedbacks and messages </p>
<p>Now let's begin.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Serena watched the sun break the horizon with more apprehension than she was comfortable with and it made her uneasy. Today marked her first official day as the newly appointed Minister of Finance and Chancellor, but the appointment was not what made the nausea rise in her stomach. It was the thought of Andy, her oldest and closest friend refusing to take the best option available to her out of some misguided sense of chivalry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Rolling her eyes, she scoffed before taking a sip of her favorite tea. They needed to act, and they needed to act now; the weight of it all was clearly barreling down on the King, but Serena knew her well. Suffering in Silence should’ve been one of Andy’s titles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Have you decided yet?” Serena called over her shoulders, her eyes still fixed to the beautiful sunrise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How do you do that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Haven’t we been over this? I know and hear everything Your Majesty.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right.” Andy muttered dryly, before sliding into the armchair across from the blonde on the terrace.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, have you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Have I what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/>                Serena’s eyes finally broke from the skies to shoot her King with a disapproving glare.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Sighing in frustration, Andy ran a hand through her hair before muttering, “I have, you know I have.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And I want to accompany you when you go to see her.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Accompany me? Who said I was going?”<br/><br/></p>
<p>            He shot her a look, not remotely in the mood for jests.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll go. Only because I know Cristi would do a terrible job at it. But why do you want to come? Want to see if she’s unfortunate?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t particularly care about looks and you know that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good, because you don’t have the privilege of being choosy…Your Grace.” Her eyes twinkled with amusement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            She chose to ignore the comment. “She won’t only be a wife, she’ll be the Queen, and like my mother, she’ll be Coronated after the wedding.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Serena’s eyes snapped around to Andy’s, disbelief in them. “Truly?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, anything else would set a bad precedent for future generations.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“…But to give her a crown in her own right, she’ll be your equal. She’d be able to rule, to make policies, decrees…you’d be giving her Genovia.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Any wife I take is my equal. I can’t offer her affection or love, but I can give her that…I can give her power and purpose. Maybe friendship one day.” She took a breath, her eyes troubled. “That is why I want to go with you. I want to see this Lady Priestly. If I don’t think she’s a good fit for my people, then I won’t consider her an option.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The blonde eyed her pensively, knowing the King was indeed right, she gave her a swift shake of the head. “Alright. We leave at noon Your Grace.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The journey had taken too weeks and Andrei was starting to become impatient. No one knew that the King had left the shore of Genovia, save for her Grand-mere and Cristi. They had made up some excuse that the King had contracted a cold and was resting in his Private wing at Brokheim. Orders were given that under no circumstance was the King to be disturbed and that only his Grand-mere and Cristi had leave to enter his quarters and nurse him back to health.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Serena had broached the plan to the Grand Dowager who after much deliberation had given her blessings. She was not one to pass up a golden opportunity; and so the two accompanied by a small guard of no more than eight highly skilled soldiers, were off to England’s shores.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Andrei sighed as she exited the room of the small humble Inn one of the guards had procured for their stay. It was imperative that they remained incognito, no one was to know that they had a King in their midst, and so they had to travel with no pomp, fan fair or luxury of any kind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            It was clearly taking its toll on Serena much to Andy’s amusement and her irritation. Nevertheless, the King was not without her own prejudices. She found the people uncouth. The city uncivilized. Even some, who considered themselves the epitome of the peerage, she considered no more than classless landlords. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Watching as her guards mingled with the crowd in the Inn’s tavern, Andy withdrew into herself, hoping that the women across the room shooting her lust filled and salacious winks would consider her hardening glare off putting and turn their affections elsewhere.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Deciding it was better if she didn’t find out if it worked, she popped the collar of her riding coat and stole through the tavern doors, deciding to take a walk and hopefully find some air that wasn’t stale or rancid. With a scowl in place, she moved through the streets of London, paying no mind to the rain that stormed around her, nor the thunder that quaked or the lightening that flashed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            She had always found comfort in storms. Maybe the rumours were true; maybe she was indeed possessed by the storm when she was a babe. It hadn’t mattered where she ended up, fortunately as man, she was protected by certain privileges of society and as such, she knew she was safe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            So distracted she was, that she almost missed it under the crack of thunder. “Lady Priestly!” Someone had called out and Andrei found herself frozen. Across the street, as horses and carriages sped by in haste to find shelter from the downpour, a woman, cloaked in black with a hood dangling over her face quickly rushed into the doorway of a townhouse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Andy watched as the door remained open and the woman removed her cloak. She felt suddenly uneasy as the woman shook tendrils of water from her hair, before offering the red headed woman who had called out to her a wide grin. The red head was clearly scowling as she reached for the towel over her shoulder, desperately trying to dry the dripping woman.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The King could only make out the words, ‘<em>catch your death,’ ‘be more careful.</em>’ Andy was in complete agreement as she witnessed the woman’s recklessness. How could she be out in this weather? Gallivanting in the rain with no care for herself or their child? The King’s scowl deepened when she remembered that the Brit didn’t know whom she belonged to now. She reminded herself that the woman had no idea she was carrying a future King…or Queen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Decision made, and a reckless one at that, Andy stormed across the street, uncaring that she was almost ran over by multiple horses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Have you no sense woman?!” Her accented voice snapped, stilling the women who jumped in fright at the unexpected intrusion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Miranda whipped around, prepared to tear into the insolent idiot that was imposing on her steps. For a moment, words were lost as she took in this strange intruder, from his slightly muddied riding boots, form fitted black breeches, to his soaked white shirt and thick over coat that dripped water at the cuffs. Her eyes trailed up to find high cheekbones, a beautifully sculpted jaw and scowling red lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>‘How is it possible for a man to be that handsome and beautiful at the same time?’</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            She frowned when his mouth continued to move.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How could you jeopardize yourself like that? What if you caught your death?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            His accent was unfamiliar to her but no less divine. It was irritatingly knee weakening really. She could listen to him talk all day, if not for the infernal words he sprouted. Shame really, she thought. He was so nice to look at.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Have you nothing to say for yourself?” He snapped once more and Miranda finally found her voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I would advise you <em>sir…” </em>She spat the word as if it were diseased riddled. “…to take your leave from my home before I have you thrown down the steps.” Her eyes hardened as she watched the anger swirl in his.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>‘Why was this stranger taking her walk so personally? It wasn’t as if she owed him an explanation. She was her own woman and would make her own decisions and live with the consequences whatever they may be damnit!’</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I would love to see the man who would dare.” He took another step up and Miranda was once again drawn to his sculpted calves and strong powerful thighs, thighs that weren’t garishly big, but toned and lightly muscled. She snapped her eyes up, mortified at the thought of being caught staring. Instead, she met his glare head on. He has such a delicate face; she frowned at the thought.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Listen if my husband-” Miranda noticed the man’s nostrils flared at the word but she continued. “If my husband owed you a debt I’m afraid you must get in line. It is late and I have no desire to converse with you any longer. Now be gone.” She turned on her heels but a hand on her wrist stilled her from moving into the foyer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I uttered no words of permission for you to leave.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            He was close now. She could feel his presence, he was almost touching her back and the heat of his breath wisped at her ear. His voice was low and though the grip on her wasn’t painful, it was confusingly possessive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            She wrenched her hand free of his hold.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Listen you uncouth, presumptuous-” She spun around but miscalculated his closeness because within seconds she was almost pressed against him. If the neighbour had witnessed this, she’d be ruined. Stumbling back, he reached for her, holding her before she fell. Their eyes locked in a battle of wills.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The two were then broken from the spell when multiple yells rang behind him. She saw him tense, his jaw hardening before he released her and stepped back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Within moments a blonde woman, a few inches shorter than he was by his side, looking at him with disapproval and exasperation. Miranda watched as the two began speaking in rapid fire, trading words back and forth in a language, she was unfamiliar with…and she was versed in quite a few.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Finally, the man scowled before turning on his before storming down the stairs to stand with the other men who accompanied the woman. They all gave him a wide berth. The blonde then stepped forward with a tired smile. “Lady Priestly, forgive my friend for his impertinence, I trust he hasn’t offended you too greatly?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ignoring the woman’s words, Miranda decided to cut to the chase. “You have less than a minute to explain yourself. My evening is already ruined by that boarish oaf you call a friend.” Miranda didn’t miss the way the blonde winced after her words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clearing her throat, the woman pressed. “My name is Serena Van Visser; I am the Minister of Finance for the Genovian Empire.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The white haired Brit felt her insides wilt at the words. “That’s impossible.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because I’m a woman?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because no one sends their Minister of Finance across the continent to recover a debt from a dying House. Especially from a country as secretive as Genovia.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Serena eyed her with amusement. “That is true of course. However, this is a very….<em>particular</em> situation.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Miranda crossed her arms and titled her head imperiously. Her eyes were cold and her voice sharp.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Might we have a seat and discuss the Lady Priestly?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We don’t need to sit. Tell me what do you want?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I will, but I think someone in your…<em>delicate</em>-” She purposely glanced down at the woman’s abdomen and watched as a hand subconsciously cradled the nonexistent bump. “…condition should be resting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How did you…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As I said Lady Priestly. We should have discussions inside.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine.” She hissed before stepping aside and allowing the Lady to pass. When the oaf made his way up the steps to enter, Miranda slammed the door shut with a satisfied <em>‘thud!’ </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Andrei blinked in disbelief at the offending piece of wood that was keeping her outside…in the rain…the gall of the woman. She shook her head as her eyes narrowed.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That woman was going to be a pain in the arse, she knew it to her bones. Tugging the collar of her coat up in an attempt to ward away the cold, she begrudgingly made her way down the steps to stand with her men. Some of whom refused to meet her gaze and others were openly grinning, no doubt finding the woman’s insolence and the King’s irritation amusing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really have appreciated the feedback and comments from you all, it makes writing this even more fun, so please definitely keep them coming. – B.S.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really have appreciated the feedback and comments from you all, it makes writing this even more fun, so please definitely keep them coming. Here’s another chapter, stay safe and I hope you enjoy. – B.S.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m pleased that you were able to take the time to speak to me Lady Priestly.” Serena offered the woman a weary smile as she took her seat in the almost bare Drawing room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Somehow I felt as though I had no choice.” Miranda countered dryly while motioning for her red assistant to fetch her guest some tea. It took a moment to get Emily’s attention, as the woman was openly sneering at her blonde visitor. Clearing her throat, the action jarred the other Brit into action who scurried off with a muffled apology.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh we all have choices My Lady. You could have easily said no, just as easily as you said yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And would you have left me in peace if I had?” The Brit arched her brow in question.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course not.” Again, the blonde grinned at her as if the two shared a secret others weren’t privy to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Exactly. So as I said, not much of a choice. Now, are you going to tell me how you knew about my…<em>condition</em>, or will we sit here making idle chatter?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah, yes…” The woman watched her, trailing a finger over her lip in contemplation before speaking. “You situation intrigues me Lady Priestly. A noble woman in title only, left destitute to fend for herself in the harsh unforgiving world. With a babe on the way no less…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            With every word, Miranda eyes hardened and her jaw clenched.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What. Do. You. Want?” Miranda snapped.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please Lady Priestly. I sincerely mean no offence. I am just stating the facts after all. And the fact is simply this. You no longer have any connections worth salt, you’ll lose the estate in less than a fortnight and the child in your room will enter this world destitute and vulnerable.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Shooting to her feet, Miranda sneered down at the woman. The woman who was staring back at her with an easy nonchalance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Get out.” Her voice was low and cold. Waspishly so, that even the usually calm and collected Serena Van Visser winced. “My child and his future is no one’s concern but my own. I may be stuck in this mess now because of my imbecile of a husband but I will not stay here. Mark my words, I will pay what is owed to you scavengers and after-” She reached to cradle her stomach, fiercely protecting the life whom she had already given her heart. “After, I will fight tooth and nail…shake the very earth to its foundation to make sure my child wants for nothing, to make sure he knows he is loved and that his mother would do anything, <em>anything </em>for him.  So, Lady Van Visser, as much as I <em>appreciate</em> your insight into the future, I will only say this once. Fuck. Off.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            In an instant, Serena was on her feet, the two staring at each other like caged tigers about to attack. Miranda refused to relent, her eyes hardening and her hands clenched. She waited for the other woman’s retaliation, preparing herself to eviscerate the cretin who dared to use subterfuge to threaten her and her child.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Serena watched the woman stand up to her. This fiercely protective woman, with no power or support behind her, stand up to someone who she thought was threatening her family and the blonde felt herself smiling. <em>Oh yes, she would definitely do</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not here to cause you any harm or heartache Lady Priestly.” She continued even when the other woman scoffed in disbelief. “I’m here to offer you an opportunity. An opportunity that would benefit you and your child immensely.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            When the Brit made no move to enquire, Serena’s grin widened further.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The crown of Genovia is in a precarious situation.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The woman’s face gave nothing away, but Serena could see the slight curiosity in her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Our King is need of a…a consort. I think, Lady Priestly, given what I know of you, that you would be amendable in filling this position.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you-are you asking me to be your King’s whore?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course not. If the King wanted a…paramour of such inclinations, certainly someone of my station wouldn’t be the one fetching her, much less travelling across the continent to get one. No, Lady Priestly, the King is in need of a Queen…” She pointedly glanced at the woman’s stomach, at the non-existent bulge. “…and an heir.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Miranda felt a wave of nausea crash through her as the ship danced through the waves. Even now, as she stared at the horizon, the shores of England far behind, a niggling of doubt still crept through her as she recounted Serena’s words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“The crown will forgive your debt and pay all outstanding sums you now owe, of course.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Wh-why?” She clutched tightly at the arm of the chair when her knees had given out. “Why would your King wa-surely he has countless women lining up to marry and bear his children. Why-”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“That is the other thing Lady Priestly. You agree to this, you will be given power and wealth beyond your wildest dreams. The might of the Genovian Empire would be yours to wield, but that question…that question you will never ask, you will temper any curiosity you might have, you will leave it be. Marry the King, become his Queen, birth your child and tell no one that the King is not the sire. After all, which mother doesn’t want their child to be a King one day?”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>            Miranda’s mind spiraled as various thoughts bombarded her. “What is expected of me? What would this King of yours…require of me?”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“He will expect you to rule and protect with the same ferocity you used when you thought I was threatening the babe.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“I meant sex. Does your King expect me to fulfil my wifely duties?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>            Serena sputtered over her words and a huff of laughter fell from her lips. “I wouldn’t have expected your delicate English sensibilities to entertain such a thought.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“I think we both know that my sensibilities are anything but delicate. If I am to agree to this, I need assurances.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Ah yes. Well, no need to fret Lady Priestly. Your virtue will remain untainted. The King does not require you for…servicing.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Does he enjoy the intimacy of other men?”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>            This time, the blonde wasn’t able to suppress the bark of laughter that escaped her lips. The blonde found herself giggling at the thought of Andy in the ’company’ of men.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“No, the King is quiet appreciative of the female form My Lady. As I said, he just doesn’t require…you.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>            Miranda scoffed. ‘Who did this King think he was? Did not require her?! Well she did not require him!”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“And my babe, he’ll not-”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“The King has already claimed your child as his own, nothing on earth can break the vow of a Genovian ruler. Your child will be safe and want for nothing.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Will he be loved? Truly.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“I cannot swear of course, but this one thing I know, your babe will not feel unwanted. Not by the King.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>            Within hours, her now meager belongings were packed and after much insistence, Nigel and Emily were at her side clutching their own little bundles, and with that, they were off to the docks.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Miranda’s was jarred from her thoughts by a gruff whisper at her ear. “Step back from the edge, you might hurt yourself.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll say this only once more <em>sir</em>, remove yourself from my presence. It is unwarranted and unwanted.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The man, whom she first met at her steps mere hours before, leaned against the rails of the ship. The breeze blowing through his hair, hair that was now brushing his shoulder. Hair, that made her want to run her hands through it, just to test if it was as soft as it looked. The same brutish oaf of a man who continuously watched her with an annoyed sort of curiosity though he had yet to speak to her since she had slammed the door in his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            It was her turn to watch him when he fixed his eyes to the rising sun. He was clearly aiming for casual nonchalance, but she could see the rigidity of his shoulders, the hardness of jaw, and the way his hands clenched around the iron rails.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            He opened his mouth as if it to speak, before quickly clamping it shut. After doing this twice more, Miranda found herself snapping. “Speak or go away.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The man, the man who she had yet to ask his name, straightened his shoulders, his hands clasped behind his back before walking away without a word. No doubt to find a corner to brood, as was his norm she realized.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            She felt a twinge of remorse at her behavior before tampering it down. She had no time to dwell on the hurt feelings of silly men. She needed a strategy, she needed to cultivate a plan that would solidify her place with this King she was set to marry. If Stephen, that idiot, taught her one thing, it was the fickleness of men and how easy they could be swayed, how easy it was to lose or gain their affection.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            This King was probably some old goat, who couldn’t get it up. The only way proud men like that would take in another man’s child as their own was if they weren’t able to sire themselves and was desperate. This she could use to her advantage. She could slide her way into his ‘heart’, she rolled her eyes at the thought, gain his trust and complete affection and wait out the days until the old idiot died. If he were this desperate, it wouldn’t be too long a wait.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The thought of some decrepit old man leering at her, touching her, it made just as nauseas as the rocking ship…or her morning sickness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Shuddering, she turned on her heels and slowly made her way across the deck to where some of the main were engaged in a game of dice. When they saw her approach, each jumped to their feet, rigid and ramrod straight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is there something we can do for you M’Lady?” One asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            She was dreadfully board and she couldn’t focus enough to sketch so she needed something to occupy her mind. “Well, you could deal me in.” She looked at the board; her curiosity peaked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The men sputtered, eyeing each other nervously. “M’lady, we could never, I mean it’s just a game of dice, no place for the umm-” He cleared his throat while tugging at his collar, his eyes subconsciously drifting to space under the staircase where the oaf had disappeared.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Frowning, she took a seat and arched her brow. “Well? What are you waiting on?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Y-yes M’Lady.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They quickly plopped back into their chairs, before shouting over each other when explaining the rules. Miranda had always considered herself a quick study and after a game, she was steadily mastering it. An air of nervousness and hesitancy still clung to the men, but Miranda slowly pulled the men into a light ease, with her charm and dry humor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miranda Priestly could be charming when she wanted to and she had made sure to master the skill that came naturally to her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So tell me about this King of yours.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Three of the men had immediately clammed up, but Miranda noticed that one had taken a bit too much to drink.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you want to know M’Lady?” He offered her a slightly too wide smile and ignored the coughs and not so gentle elbow jabs from his comrades.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh nothing too scandalous I assure you.” She offered him her brightest smile, easing him into a false sense of security. “I bet he’s a whoremongering old goat, who spends away while his people suffer, right?” She whispered conspiringly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The slightly intoxicated boy laughed so hard he snorted ale through his nose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grinning, Miranda continued. “I bet he thinks of himself as some dashing white knight when he most likely can’t get on a horse without twenty footmen and stool.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Again, the boy guffawed, slapping his hands on the table as he threw back his head in glee. “Well he’s-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s what boy?” A low, piercingly sharp voice snapped from behind Miranda. Every man was on his feet in seconds and when Miranda turned, dark ember eyes stared down at her. Like the rolling of thunderclouds, the oaf’s eyes stormed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“N-nothing sir, I-I-I-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stop scaring the boy, you brute.” Every eye widened at the word. “We were just having a bit of fun. Not everyone finds such enjoyment in standing in a corner brooding and judging the world. We leave that for you.” She smiled at him with such sickly sweetness, that the men took a step back, desperately searching the open deck for somewhere to duck and hide.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course, Lady Priestly. One shouldn’t expect much from someone of such an…” He looked at her with annoyance. “…unfortunate background, but I had believed, in spite of evidence to the contrary, that you would comport yourself as a Lady of class. Considering you are set to marry the King.” He loomed over her, his nose twitching. “How disappointed he will be.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh?” Her nose flared and her hand shook with the barely suppressed urge to slap his smug face. “I’m sure you have spent enough time under, I mean <em>with</em> the King to be so aptly familiar with his…<em>disappointment</em>.” She smirked when his eyes widened and his nostrils flared, his mouth hung slightly in shock. “But, I suggest you mid yourself when you speak to me. I have no desire to prove myself to you or to anyone else to that matter. I am Miranda Priestly; and whether you like it or not, <em>I am</em> your future Queen. So unless you want my first act as your sovereign to be demanding your head, begone from my presence.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I-” He took a step forward. He knew he should be annoyed, knew that the woman was doing her best to grate at him, but something about her pulled him from the solitude of his own mind and forced him to seek her out, to linger around her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>“Why are you antagonizing your future wife?” </em>Serena called from above, speaking in Genovi.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>“Because she is being deliberately insufferable.” </em>He murmured back, watching as the Brit eyed him with barely concealed annoyance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Have you tried not acting like an oafish brute? It tends to soften the ladies.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“I don’t think your expertise applies to this woman.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Why? Because she doesn’t swoon at your big brown eyes and charming disposition?”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“I’ll have you thrown in the dungeons.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Who’ll manage your finances if you do?”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>“I am still your King.” </em>He grunted in annoyance at the laughter in her voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Yes, but Miranda will be my favorite.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked up and bared his teeth at her, before tugging at his coat and walking back into the interior of the ship.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t mind him Lady Priestly. He’s a bit sourly at this time of day.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And what’s his excuse at night?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, by then he’s way past that and into brooding territory.” The blonde shot her a wink before disappearing into the Captain’s office.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>            A week later Miranda felt a sigh of relief when land was in sight. So far, she was unable to discern much about her future husband and the brute had made himself almost invisible. Whenever she approached a room, she would catch his coattail exiting through the other side as if he were actively avoiding her. Whenever she managed to see him, it would be the most confusing seconds, sometimes minutes of her life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He would quickly, without meeting her gaze, slid a plate towards her daily, filled with delicious morsels, as if he knew she was craving sweets. At another time, he had shoved an empty leather bound book with the initials <em>‘A.R’</em> towards and the first few pages torn out. It was as if he had overheard when she had mentioned to Nigel that she had ran out of paper to sketch. Again, his eyes would flicker everywhere but at her, before he mumbled in Genovi and walked away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He refused to speak or engage outside of his little busts of confusion and whenever she tried to catch his gaze, he would look at her, his eyes widening before they narrowed, then he would turn on his heels and disappear until the next time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Fine by her, she sniffed. It wasn’t as if she missed looking at his ridiculous face and stupidly captivating eyes, she scoffed. As if he would be so lucky to get her attention. Even now, as they disembarked the ship, her eyes searched for him, but once again, he proved elusive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            No matter, she had much to worry about, there was now a lot to consider, allies to find, enemies to suss out; there was much to do and she had no time for idle distractions. Clearing her throat and arching her shoulders, she made her way to the waiting carriage, her people not far behind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We are off to Brokheim, the Summer Palace. The Grand Dowager will be receiving you, discreetly of course.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And the King?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            When the woman offered no further information, Miranda eyed her pensively.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you an ally Lady Van Visser?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Serena tilted her head, watching the woman with mild amusement. She was direct and to the point. Serena felt at ease, this woman was no simpering idiot and she was clearly not some swooning Lady who easily falls victim to a pretty face. She would be good for Andrei; she could feel it. The King needed the challenge; she needed someone who wasn’t afraid to pull her out of her shell. She needed someone to make her feel without fear. She needed someone who allowed her to let go, to let go and be herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, my Queen, I’m an ally.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Brit’s eyes narrowed, assessing the Genovi’s every movement. “I’m usually a good judge of character. Do not disappoint me Lady Van Visser.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll certainly try my best not to…and call me Serena.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miranda nodded to herself, as if she’d uncovered whatever she’d been searching for. “Miranda.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be sure to do so in private.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            When the Brit grew silent, watching the beauty of the lush rolling Genovi hills and mountains. Serena found herself whispering. “Do not fret Miranda; you will have allies in the King’s inner circle. It’s outside of it you should worry about. There the dangers lie.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If he had to reach across the continent for an heir he didn’t sire, I figured as much.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Humming in agreement, Serena leaned back against the cushioned seat, her eyes riveted out the window, fixed on her homeland, the place she adored. “And now it begins Miranda.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And now it begins.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Miranda wasn’t sure what to expect, however she was not expecting to be snuck into through the ‘back door’ like a common criminal. Precaution, Serena had called it when Miranda had shot her a less than pleased glare. The court wasn’t to be made aware as yet she said. The King was to make the announcement in a few days. The announcement that he had travelled to England a few weeks ago and on his journey, he had met and fell madly in love with the stunning and charming Lady Miranda Priestly. He had then seduced the woman and the two had secretly married.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Yes, it would cause some scandal, Miranda was aware. A King, essentially eloping, and at his age no less, Miranda snorted under her breath, but that was the story they had concocted. It would be easier to explain the ‘early’ arrival of the King’s child. To make up the slight to the people, the pair would hold a great celebration and proper royal wedding that would span days.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            So here they were, rushing Miranda through halls, halls that could barely admire in their haste. She was on her way to meet with the Grand Dowager, after which she would meet the King and the two would then be secretly married before a trusted priest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The term ‘whirlwind’ could hardly describe the circumstances which Miranda found herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Within seconds, she was escorted through large golden doors into the Grand Dowager’s wing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ll be fine, nothing to fret about.” Serena whispered before gently pushing her through the doors.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not fretting, I’m apprehensive. There’s a difference.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure there is.” Serena snorted before turning her heels.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Miranda watched the woman disappear down the large passage.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you content with lurking outside or will you join me before the tea cools?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Shaking herself from her revere, Miranda strode into the room. She would not cower or simper under the woman’s words or gaze. That was not who she was, and she would change for no one.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your Grace.” She curtsied. Contrary to what that oaf thought, she wasn’t without manners. She shook brown eyes from her thoughts and tried focusing on the woman seated before her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you to be my granddaughter?” She sipped, eyeing the woman with expressionless eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I believe that is the case Your Grace.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And you’re carrying a babe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            It wasn’t a question, so Miranda chose not to answer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your child will be a Renaldi, no trace of your late husband will be remembered through him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good riddance then.” Miranda’s faced remained impassive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What woman denies her child their history?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“One who knows that history isn’t worth the paper it was written on.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The woman hummed before taking another sip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What woman gives herself over to a stranger?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not familiar with Genovi practices, but in the rest of the world, this is quite normal for a woman.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah yes, I’ve heard of that. Primitive if you ask me.” Women weren’t allowed to rule before they had the laws changed, but the Grand Dowager was proud that Genovia was progressive in other areas.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Miranda felt the edge of her lips tug. “Yes, primitive, but your grandson had something that I need, and I have someone that he needs.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And what does he have that you need?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Security…and power. I never want my child to know that feeling of hopelessness when everything is ripped away from you and you’re left with nothing. I won’t apologize for using your grandson, especially when he’s using me too.” She met the woman’s eyes unwaveringly. She would not be cowed or feel shame for protecting her child and herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The older woman sipped her tea before a smirk pulled at her lips. “I think I’m going to like you. Have a seat Miranda.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you your Grace.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Clarisse please.” The woman offered a steaming cup.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Clarisse.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Miranda hadn’t thought she would have gotten along with the older woman. Now that Clarisse had determined she liked Miranda, the woman had steam rolled right into ‘Mother’ territory. Fussing over the Brits health, promising that Genovia’s best doctors would see to her and the little prince or princess she carried. The woman exuded a warmth that did little to hide her sharp intelligent twinkle in her eyes. She coo’d and offered Miranda every Genovi sweet she could get hands on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Miranda was secretly pleased. She had been fearful that even though they wanted her child; that it would only be for political reasons. She had feared that her future husband’s family would treat her babe like a means to an end rather than the darling sweetheart she knew they would be; and so she was relieved that the woman was treating her as though Miranda carried her blood.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Miranda even found herself smiling when the woman revealed a dry witty humour that rivaled her own. She secretly hoped that the King shared even s smidge of the charm his grandmother oozed. Maybe then, it would be bearable. Maybe they could eventually become friends.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There you are child. You kept your bride waiting so long. Haven’t I taught you better than that?” She affectionately chided the figure who stood behind Miranda’s chair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The Priest is awaiting our arrival Grand-mere.” A voice called across the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Miranda held her breath. This was it…the moment of disappointment, yet there was something about his voice. Something about it that was achingly familiar. She turned in her chair, steeling her face for an expression of nonchalance. It wouldn’t do to hurt the man’s pride so quickly out of the gate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            He was so close to her chair that when she turned, her eyes was in line with his waist. Her brows furrowed at the slightly slender hips, then up, over the jeweled buttons of his back and gold coat. Her eyes widened when they reached familiar pinked lips that curled into a smugness that irritated her, all the way up to those infuriating big brown eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You!” She hissed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will you be demanding my head now or after we’re married Lady Priestly?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really have appreciated the feedback and comments from you all, it makes writing this even more fun, so please definitely keep them coming. – B.S.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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